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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223683">I’m Trying, I’m Breathing In</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/universallongings/pseuds/universallongings'>universallongings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Rookie (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>CW_2020, Character Study, Chenford Week, Chenford Week Day 1, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Introspection, Tattoos, mentions of trauma, so much introspection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:57:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/universallongings/pseuds/universallongings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One year ago, Lucy woke up to burning pain in her side as the numbers that marked her day of death were etched into her skin. Today, she wakes up to the soft, reverent touch of warm fingers against those same numbers—the ones she now knows mark the day she became a survivor. </p>
<p>OR</p>
<p>On December 9, 2020, Lucy thinks about what a difference a year makes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chenford Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I’m Trying, I’m Breathing In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Chenford Week Day 1: Anything Lucy! The title for this fic comes from “The Fear You Won’t Fall” by Joshua Radin. This can definitely fit in the same universe as “I Know Your Story (But Tell Me Again)” but stands on its own just fine too.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>December 9, 2020</i>
</p>
<p>What a difference a year makes…</p>
<p>One year ago, Lucy woke up in a strange house with the sound of a tattoo gun buzzing sharply in her ears.</p>
<p>Today, she wakes up in the house that’s become home over the last few months with the sound of Kojo’s paws gently echoing through the bedroom door. </p>
<p>One year ago, Lucy woke up to burning pain in her side as the numbers that marked her day of death were etched into her skin.</p>
<p>Today, she wakes up to the soft, reverent touch of warm fingers against those same numbers—the ones she now knows mark the day she became a survivor. </p>
<p>One year ago, Lucy woke up to the face of a man who wanted to hurt her, to break her, to make her feel afraid. </p>
<p>Today, she wakes up to the face of a man who wants to love her, to protect her, to make her feel safe.</p>
<p>She remembers what it felt like to slowly raise her heavy, foggy head and see Caleb carving his brand into her body, claiming ownership of her skin—and her life—without her permission. She remembers the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she pushed down the instinct to cry, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was causing her pain. She remembers feeling powerless, helpless, hopeless.  </p>
<p>So now, she treasures the feeling of power, strength, and hope she feels as she rolls onto her back, raising her clear head to see Tim looking at her with a silent question in his eyes—asking for permission. She nods slowly as he lowers his head, his mouth gently worshipping each letter and number—not claiming ownership but instead promising freedom. She doesn’t push down the instinct to cry this time, letting the tears fall because she wants to give him this—this vulnerable piece of her heart, all of her pain but also all of her joy. </p>
<p>It’s been a long year. </p>
<p>There have been moments when it all still feels so close—the scent of her own blood, the sting of the pepper spray, the heaviness of her lungs as she struggled to breathe in that barrel. </p>
<p>But today, it feels farther away. So she takes a deep breath in—because she can, because she knows how precious it is. And when she does, she watches him smile as her body rises and falls under his mouth—because he knows how precious it is too. </p>
<p>One year ago, she learned what it was to feel the claws of death sinking into her skin.</p>
<p>But one year ago, she also learned what it was to feel the first breath of new life in her lungs, the first ray of sunshine after the darkness closes in, the first pair of arms to hold her as the world came back into focus. </p>
<p>So today she burrows herself deeper into those arms and lets herself be overwhelmed by gratitude for life and love and all the other things she’s been given by the lips that are now pressing soft kisses into her jaw, her temple, her hair. </p>
<p>And when he looks down at her, wonder in his eyes and healing in the gentle weight of his thumb against her cheekbone, she knows exactly what to say.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” she whispers before softly brushing her lips against his.</p>
<p>One year ago, it was the worst morning of her life. </p>
<p>Today, she’s alive—and she’s loved.</p>
<p>It’s a good morning.</p>
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